Voices is the Op-Ed and personal essay section of The Georgetown Voice. It features the real narratives of diverse students from nearly every corner on campus, seeking to tell some of the incredibly important and yet oft-unheard stories that affect life in and out of Georgetown.
The protocols in place worked for our small election, with only 1-2 voters per hour. However, much higher turnout in November will complicate that, especially with the convergence of voters from all parties.
"It would be a mistake to assume that COVID-19 has created these gaps in educational access. All it’s done is bring them to light."
"For all students, Georgetown’s complicity in the prison-industrial complex is also our complicity. We have a direct interest in Georgetown’s actions and reputation, making us stakeholders in our university."
D.C. statehood is not an issue of just taxes or borders. Civil rights, racial justice, and democracy are at stake. Statehood would open up pathways for the 700,000 residents of D.C., 54 percent of whom are people of color, to advocate for themselves and access the same democratic processes that people living in states do.
Speaking out against racism is more than an action. It is a process of recognizing the ways in which white people contribute to and benefit from institutional and societal racism. It is a process of realizing feeling guilty is a privilege—that Black people and other people of color have been living with the effects of this racism for their entire lives.
By supporting a tuition decrease, we put countless faculty and staff members at risk. We deplete already-scant resources that help level the academic and social playing field for socioeconomically disadvantaged students like myself who depend on tuition revenues for funding. Ultimately, we risk undoing much of the progress made over the last five decades towards creating a more diverse and inclusive Georgetown community.
"In light of these struggles, the COVID-19 pandemic has made me question the university’s real commitment to the global character it parades around."
"My classmates would walk around with thousand-dollar winter coats, wear designer bags, and avoid Leo’s at their every convenience. Meanwhile, I added three jobs to my plate and was juggling more than I could handle. Going from classes in Walsh to shifts in Reynolds (a hike), I often found it near impossible to ever leave the Bubble or even to discover any clubs I was passionate about."
"Georgetown and its students say survivors are not alone. We write it on the walls of our buildings and host rallies and shout together, but what will you do when the perpetrator is your friend or partner? What will you do when rejecting them means a major change in your life? What will you do when empowering a survivor is inconvenient for you? What will you do when your student organization is enabling abusers? What action will you actually, truly take to make sure a survivor is not alone?"
In discussions about COVID-19, it is the military metaphors that are the most dangerous. War metaphors related to COVID-19 are overused and often inaccurate, and descriptions of the pandemic should instead turn to non-violent metaphors that emphasize the need for community and perseverance.
No matter the answer, my previous “cure” for my hair was one of many small things I took for granted, and one of the many small habits that I, like many others, didn’t realize I valued until they were gone.
College campuses create an environment where LGBTQ+ students can live openly, build a community, and finally accept themselves. If Georgetown forces students to continue taking virtual classes this fall, Georgetown strips queer students of the experience they signed up for. This would stifle the thriving LGBTQ+ community, of all races and classes, that I have been able to learn, live, and grow with. LGBTQ+ students need the support a college campus provides.